


Blood tastes like coffee

by blank_ghost



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blank_ghost/pseuds/blank_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has been afraid of Shield finding out about him and Loki's secret relationship since it started four months ago but as Fury's voice comes over a loud speaker from outside the small restaurant, he's happy. Or would be if he wasn't so busy trying not to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood tastes like coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Big FAT thank you shout out to the worlds best Beta ever Becky. Really, she deserves much worship. Without her most of this would just be drool.  
> -  
> Follow my Tumblr to get updates and previews of fics as well as general frostiron goodness. Blank-ghost . Tumblr . com  
> -

Millis on Gram Street in Temecula boasts that they have the best pies in Riverside County. Tony’s not to sure about that, either the suburbs of Riverside had incredibly low pie standers or Tony is spoiled. He’d much prefer to be dining at Per Se, having a nice Sashimi of fluke with pomegranate granita. Maybe some Chocolate "Cremeux" instead of dry tasting apple pie.       
  
        A meal fit for a prince, for a prince.   
  
        He’s a little under dressed for that though, jeans, and tee shirt under a hooded jacket. Streaks of machine oil under his nails and mud on his sneakers. He’d get kicked out of Per Se in a heart beat.  
  
        Instead he’s sitting in the cheap red vinyl booth, close enough to the front that he can make sure his BMW stays in the rain soaked parking lot and not some country kids joy ride. The menu is laminated plastic and his mug of coffee sports adds for other small local businesses. Howe’s septic services front and center.   
  
        Uch.   
  
        At least the wood table under his hands is clean although pot marked from fifty years of service, feeling the nubs and furrows under his blunt fingers as he pushes his mug around. The brown dredges of the coffee match the weather outside, dark and bitter. Making the neon lights in Millis a little too bright in all that rain, the restaurant a small oasis in a dark world.   
  
        The things he’s willing to do for love it seems is far beyond the reaches he’s ever thought himself capable of sinking to.   
  
        Hua. Love. That word seems to come to him easier and easier these days…   
  
        The bell chiming over the door drawing his head up like it’s on a pull cord, the smile on his face is equally unconscious. He can’t help but feel like a sap as he drinks in the vision of his lover.  
  
        Tall, far too gorgeous to be legal, Loki is a wet noodle in black slacks and blazer jacket, just a hint of gray green peeking out from under the soaked fabric.   
  
        Tony waves him over despite the fact that for four months they’ve been using the same booth, Loki can probably navigate the stretch of restaurant in his sleep to get here. Tony knows he can.   
  
        Sally, noisy, fifty something Sally scuttles over with another cup of coffee and sets it down before Loki‘s even at the table. Silly bird is happier to see the famous Tony Stark having a romantic relationship than she is about the hundreds he slips into her tip for their privacy. Shooting him an underhanded wink before slipping off back behind the bar to take an elderly couples order.  
  
        “You been here long?” Loki asks, peeling off his jacket and scarf before setting it on the booth across from him, taking a moment to push his wet hair back. Tony watches his long fingers clasp the mug in his hands, mirroring his pose.   
  
        “No, not at all. The traffic out of LA was a bitch and a half.” He grosses. It’s always the same with them; small talk, never about the Avengers as a group, never about Asgard or war. “I think I clipped a fucking truck with my rear fender on the 405.”   
  
        Loki gives him a soft hum of acknowledgement and slips his coffee, pinching his nose at tonight’s practically rancid taste. “I think the apartment below mine is housing a dead body. The smell. It’s not pleasing.”   
  
        Tony chuckles at that, considering Loki owns the whole fucking apartment building he’s residing in now and it’s empty but its one tenant. Loki. “Maybe you should talk to management.”   
  
        “Maybe I should move. I’ve been looking at this beach house. Very modern, very much like a flying saucer?”  
  
        Tony glances to Loki over the lip of his mug, scooping his laminated menu up and concentrating on it as he sips. “You shouldn’t. It’s a bad house. The electric bill is out the roof. Crazy owner does stuff in the basement that‘s not quite legal. I think he‘s a drunk.”   
  
        Loki’s chuckle is deep and silk with just enough giggle to make it infectious. The god scoops the menu into his hands and glancing at it only a moment before setting it to the side of the table. His long legs stretching easily across the table to knock knees with Tony. Like they're high school kids on a fast track date to the back of Tony‘s car… not that that will probably be their first stop for the night.   
  
        “What are you ordering?”   
  
        “Mmm. I can’t decide if I want to risk the chicken fried steak or just bypass my sanity and go right for the spaghetti? Is that spaghetti? Sally needs spell-check man. These menus keep getting more creative.”   
  
        “I’m surprised you haven’t bought the restraint yet.”   
  
        “My CEO would get a little suspicious if I suddenly decided on investing in Millis’ world's best pies.”   
  
        “Oh god, the pie.” Loki groans with enough heart to show its honest distaste. Apparently he’s not the only one who’s grown a little disgusted of their home away from home. “Why do we eat here?”   
  
        “Because the building is circa 1950’s and it’s as far away from Shield's radar as we can get. Because Sally would cry if we left.” Tony says, glancing up to the woman as she approaches, dusting her hands on her faded yellow apron. “Wouldn’t you, love?”   
  
        “They’d be tears of happiness.” The woman admits, shrugging her shoulders and offering Loki a long sad smile. “I’d like to see you two where you belong.”   
  
        “Mmm.” Loki says with little enthusiasm. Tony’s pretty sure he knows where Loki thinks he belongs. Some cell back in Asgard he’s skipped from. It’s not the fairytale that Sally thinks it is.  
  
        Both of them know that story will never happen.   
  
          
    Hell, this shouldn’t be happening.   
          
    Sipping at his coffee does little to ease the meat locker that’s trapped his heart.    
          
    They’ve already been at this four months, and though their hearts are parallel, though they share heated moments of passion unlike anything they’ve ever experienced, some day it will all be gone. More likely sooner than later unless something happens to stop it.  
          
    “Let’s go.” Loki’s hand is warm, trapping Tony’s fingers against the mug. His eyes desperate like he can pluck the thoughts from Tony‘s head. Maybe he can. “Let’s just… go.”   
          
    “Boys?”   
          
    “It’s okay Sally, we’ll just take some ah… more coffee, we’re not very hungry today…” He says, not even realizing how long the two of them had been sitting there, staring at each other.   
          
    Tony rubs the back of his neck with his free hand as he watches Sally return to back behind the bar. He can’t look back to Loki. Not yet.   
          
    “Anthony.”  
          
    “It’s the weather. Fucking rain. All this rain all week long. It’s just getting into my head. Haven’t been in the suit for a while. Know what I’m saying?” He slowly tilting his head to see Loki again, giving a weak smile he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just- I don’t know. Have some coffee and then we can go back to Malibu.”   
          
    We. Malibu. That’s a change in the game plan. Cheap motels, sometimes the back of the car, sometimes expensive motels. Never something as personal as a home.   
          
    He realizes in his bones, the warm feeling in his gut verifying it, he’s offering Loki a home.   
          
    Loki’s got a great poker face when he wants to but this must not be one of those times because every emotion possible bleeds through those green eyes. A vivid flash of fear and hope and love. Thin lips pulling into a smile as he settles on the last. “Yes. That would be nice.”   
          
    “Boys.” Sally’s voice startles Tony nearly out of his skin as his mind spins around doubt and fear. Shield and Fury and the anger of the other Avengers a storm looming in the distance of his mind.   
          
    “On the house.” She says, handing down two slices of pie. Fucking apple pie from hell. “I do hope these are your last slices.”   
          
    “Something tells me it will be, but Lady Sally, we will not soon forget you.” Loki says with all the charming words of his silver tongue and prince upbringing.   
          
    “You…” Sally blooms, her smile warm and genuine as she turns away, busy with the elderly couple across the way and getting things around for closing.   
          
    Loki’s hand still on his is warm and comforting, his long fingers stroking slow patterns into the back of his wrist. Drawing his eyes down. He knows those hands. Their taste, the feel of them as they trace every inch of his skin that feels good. Scooting a little down in the booth he pulls his hand from Loki’s and pats the bench.   
          
    “Come on. Sit here next to me.” he says, answering Loki’s questioning look. “If this is our last time here, let’s make it memorable.”   
          
    Loki gives a bit of a chuckle at that before moving around the table and sitting by Tony’s side, wrapping an arm around him and offering a kiss against his temple. “Sentimental human.”   
          
    “Mmm, your sentimental human.” Tony murmurs, brushing his nose to the pale column of Loki’s neck, breathing in his scent.   
          
    “You’ve always been mine.”  
          
    “You’ve been mine too.” Tony reminds him, breathing in a shuddering sigh as Loki’s lips ghost over his. They taste of snow and coffee and bring promises of a very pleasing night ahead.   
          
    Night and then morning, and the night after that, and after that. His brain supplies him, making him melt against that lean body and kiss Loki with more passion than is publicly appropriate. Lost in the moment and the promise of many more that bleeds though the kiss.  
          
    Fuck Shield; let them try to take this away from him. They can pry it from his cold, dead hands.  
          
    Somewhere in the distance he hears the bell chiming over the door telling him that they’re all but alone in the restaurant now. With Sally cleaning up and the chef in the back. The empty space is their domain for one last moment.   
         
     Loki’s hands holding him to reality as they cup his cheeks, breaking the kiss. The god's eyes are dark depths of black with just a hint of green, his lips kiss swollen and so very fuckable.   
          
    Heat pooling slowly south as Loki’s thumb brushes over his lower lip. Tony contemplates licking it, knowing the taste he’ll find and the moan’s Loki can make if it’s sucked just right but bright lights swing across the parking lot with a spray of gravel and mud that has him pulling away.   
          
    “Fucking hell?” He grunts, shifting in his seat a little and glancing out the window to his BMW and the beat to shit pickup parked next to it now. Watching some college kid climb out and slam the door like he’s pissed about something. Blond head ducked down against the onslaught of the pouring rain outside.  
          
    “Let mortals be mortals. Let’s go.”   
          
    “And miss our pie?”   
          
    “I’ve got other things I want you to eat.” Loki says lowly, bringing his lips to Tony’s with one finally taste before rising to his feet.  
          
    “Is that a sanitary comment? Because I’m sure the health board could be all over our asses for it. Really, I’ve got enough law suits at any given moment, I don’t need that.” He jokes, stiffly getting to his feet and pulling out his wallet, fishing around for a few hundreds as he watches Loki pull on his blazer again.   
          
    Looking over his shoulder as the bell chimes over the door and the bastard with the truck and the attitude comes in, trailing mud and guck all over the floor. Watching Sally come from the back and hold up her hands.   
          
    “Sorry, we’re closed.”   
          
    “I just want some food bitch.”   
          
    Tony flinches back at the comment, but Sally takes it with the stride of someone who’s worked with assholes for years, Loki turning to watch the scene with open interest.   
          
    “Yes, but we’re closed sir, you’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”   
          
    “Fuck that.” The man, kid really, he can’t be more than twenty three, makes a quick move with his hands. Pulling a Ruger from his pants waistband and pointing it at Sally with all the cold blooded training that a life on the street can give you. The nine millimeter semi automatic stands out mat black in the bright lights.   
          
    Some magical stone of ice makes a nice slow slide down into Tony’s belly.  
          
    “I want fucking food. Now bitch.” the punk with the gun growls, Tony jumping into action before he can slow his steps. Too much time being the hero to sit back and watch this happen, dodging Loki’s hand as he tries to stop him.   
          
    “Fuck Anthony!” - “HEY, Stop!” - “NO!”   
          
    The verbal splatter bounces around the walls as Tony shouts at the kid, Loki shouts at him, and the kid barks at everyone. The pistol fire echoes loud in the restaurant and sends Sally bounding to the floor, unharmed but clearly rattled. The hole in the ceiling raining a few dust sprinkles.  
          
    “HEY! I said stop!” Tony says, feeling incredibly naked without his suit and incredibly stupid for the fact it’s sitting in the trunk of his car twenty feet away.   
          
    Karma you bitch.   
          
    Schooling his heart into a lest frantic rhythm he holds up his hands and steps closer.  
          
    “You back the fuck up, you queer. Go on. Sit your asses back down. No ones’ going anywhere.” The prick demands, leveling the Ruger at Tony’s chest.   
          
    The man's eyes are a deep brown and empty of all emotion but hate. Tony knows the look because he’s seen a cave full of it back in Afghanistan. Desperation and anger all rolled into one violent storm. Backing up slowly he bumps into Loki’s chest, taking the gods hand into his for a quick moment. “Go. Just sit.”   
         
     Loki frowns hard like he’s not going to budge and going to get someone, possibly Tony shot for a moment but he gives in. his brows drawn in a frown as he sits back at the table.   
          
    The man seems satisfied enough with that, gesturing with the gun in his hand. “The chef in the back, I want him up here. I want to see everyone who’s here.”   
          
    “It’s just them, Charles, and me.” Sally says from her hands and knees in front of the man, her eyes wide with shock.   
          
    The man levels the gun at her and nods his head. “Go get him.”  
          
    Sally gets to her feet quickly for such an older woman. Disappearing into the back for a moment. Who ever this guy is, he’s not bright, sending her off like that, she could slip out a back door. Or he’s incredibly brilliant, knowing she wouldn’t risk Loki and Tony’s life making a disappearing act.   
          
    Shoving his hands through his hair, Tony looks to his feet and tries to calm his heart, stress like this is no good.  
          
     It’s been years since he’s felt this useless. Since he’d had his own reactor ripped from his chest. Since Afghanistan. A million lifetimes flooding by and for a heart stopping moment the warm restaurant turns into a cold cave. Guns tend to do that to Tony. PTSD they say, never really goes away…  
          
    Loki’s shoe toes against his sneakers, drawing his eyes up and across the table to the god. He must have made a noise or something because Loki’s got that concerned look in his eyes that don’t quite work right for someone so powerful.  
          
    “I’m watching you two.” The man warns, drawing Tony’s eyes away and back down to the floor only to look back up again as Sally comes back out with the chef. A Hispanic kid that looks like he speaks about as much English as Tony does Old Norse.   
          
    What a mess.   
           
    “What does someone have to do to get a menu around here?”   
          
    Tony watches tense for a moment as Sally seems to calm herself enough to fetch a menu for the gun toting madman.   
          
    He can’t just sit here. He’s Tony fucking Stark. He’s Iron Man. He saves the earth and fucks a god and he can’t just sit here with some piss-on kid pointing a gun at everyone as he wallows in traumas from a life time ago.   
          
    Taking a few deep breaths and counting backwards like Bruce taught him he concentrates on formulating a plan.   
          
    Help. He needs to get help out here. What’s the point of being a member of a super hero boy scout club if you can’t pull the membership card when you need it?  
          
    Inching his hand down into his pants pocket and pulling out his cell, resting it down against his thigh and from the kid’s sight. Bringing up a blank text to Clint.   
          
    ‘Need help.’  
          
    The vibration that comes a moment later sounds like a gong going off to Tony but the man across the restaurant doesn’t seem to hear it, fixated on his menu. Tony glances down slowly.   
          
    ‘Where are you? What’s wrong?’  
          
    Tony swallows; meeting Loki’s eyes across the table before relaying the location and making sure they know there is a gun involved and innocents.   
          
    ‘ETA 80 minutes. Hold tight.’  
          
    Fuck. Closing his eyes his sets his phone back into his pocket and clasps his hands together to stop them from shaking.    
          
    Loki’s toes nudge to Tony’s again, drawing his head back up. The god’s eyes are deadly sharp, the same look he had when he was commanding an army and raising hell. It’s a scary look that promises death and the wrath that only a god can give.  
          
    “Let me stop him.” Loki mouths.  
          
    Tony shakes his head, glancing back to the man gesturing to the menu with his gun. Sally taking his order with shaking hands. It’s too close a range and Tony’s not sure what kind of ideas Loki has floating through his head. His idea of ‘stop him’ might just be destroy this half of southern California.   
          
    “Why not?”  
          
    Tony sighs and pinches his nose. “I don’t want an-”  
          
    “SHUT UP!” The man with a gun screeches, Tony sitting stock still for a moment before getting back to his feet.   
          
    “I said sit!” the bastard barks, the gun swinging his direction again.   
          
    “Can you stop with that okay? Come on! Think about what you’re doing here.” He argues, feeling Loki’s fingers grip tight to his sleeve. The burnt electric scent in the air as the god gathers his magic.   
          
    To protect? To attack? It’s still too big of a risk.  
          
    Tony steps away quickly from Loki’s grasp. Holding his hands up in a non threatening pose.   
         
     “Listen kid. I understand, life’s not fair. You just wanted food. That’s no reason to go all stupid and hurt someone.”   
         
     “You don’t know shit!” The man says, jumping to his feet, the barstool he’d been on crashing to the floor loud.   
          
    As though things couldn’t get worse headlights pan around the muddy lot. All heads in the room turning to watch the black and white patrol car slowly ease into the parking lot behind the truck.   
          
    Well fuck.   
          
    “That’s stolen, isn’t it? It is.” Tony sighs, his hopes of this all ending well spinning down the drain as he glances back down the barrel of the gun. “You drove a stolen truck, to steal food. We just don’t have a well thought villain class anymore do we?”   
          
    “Apparently I set standards too high.” Loki says softly from behind him, having crept up like a cat, no humor in his voice at all.  
          
    “Both of you fuckers need to-”  
          
    “Shut up, yeah. We get it.” Tony says waving his hand. “You need to relax, take a chill pill. Set the gun down kid, you don’t want to do this. This isn’t the way to get back at life.”  
          
    “You don’t know shit and if you don’t shut your fucking mouth I’m going to-”  
          
    “I’d stop now mortal; you're going to regret anything you say after this because I swear what ever promises of pain you have is nothing compared to what I can do to you, I will garrote you with your viscera if you touch one hair on this man‘s head.” Loki says, coming to stand strong and powerful by Tony’s side. Looking down his nose at the man.   
          
    “Is that even possible?” Tony can’t help but ask, feeling safe and cocky with the god backing him; his grin short lived as the bell above the door chimes.   
          
    “Fuck.” Tony breaths out a moment before the gun fires.   
          
    For a split second he’s afraid the officer has been hit as the man hit’s the floor in a well trained roll, Sally’s scream bouncing off the walls. Then the pain sets in, more a dull thudding ach than the sharp drive he’d assume being shot would feel like.   
          
    Looking down slowly just to make sure what he’s feeling is even right, but sure enough, to the left side of his abdomen is a blooming red rose of blood. Reaching up slowly to finger the little hole in the fabric of his hoodie. Feeling disconnected from his own body for a moment.  
          
    The restaurant lists to the side and the old linoleum floor rises up to greet Tony as his knees buckle, the numb pain intensifying till he can feel every pulse of blood as it makes a mad rush to leave his body. Loki’s arms strong and assuring as they wrap tight around him.  
          
    The gods sinking to the floor with him with a stream of what must be every swear word in every realm. That’s not what scares Tony, not even the pain, and oh god is it pain now. It’s the scared look in Loki’s eyes that really terrifies him.   
          
    Sally and the chef are screaming and the officer is trying to yell commands and the punk ass kid with the gun is demanding attention but it’s all just noise to Tony as he locks in on Loki. The god’s hands frantic and trembling as he pushes against the wound, pain jack knifing Tony’s spine and burning his lungs.   
          
    “Fuck!” he chokes out, gagging on the hot rancid rush of blood and bile in his mouth. “No… Loki… no, killing!” He demands. Clenching his teeth together and grabbing tight with both hands to Loki’s forearm. Making the god look down to him.   
          
    “Vow.”   
          
    “No!” Loki nearly screams at him, his eyes liquid with tears behind a curtain of black hair.   
          
    “Vow. Damn it…” Tony gasps for his next breath. Nerve endings flashing to life with red angry pain.   
          
    “No!”  
          
    “Fuck… Loki… Vow.”   
          
    He’s silent for a moment, his panting breaths matching Tony’s, the train wreck of the restaurant around them forgotten. “I vow.”   
       
    “Good… that’s… that’s good…” He breaths out. Clenching Loki’s arm tight in his hands in what has to be a bruising grip as pain seizes him, twisting as he tries to escape it. His sneakers squeaking on the floor under him.  
          
    “Anthony. Don’t do that. Stop moving.” Loki growls, leaning close till his breath is hot against Tony’s ear and his hair is blocking out the bright lights above them. Closing his eyes Tony tries his best to just breathe through the fire in his belly and listen to the world around them.   
          
    The officer's radio a distant chatter as dispatch brings every black and white in Riverside County to their doorstep. In about ten minutes there’s going to be thirty cops out front and even more the longer they sit.  Opening his eyes slowly he, gives Loki a short nod of attention, his breath wheezing in and out.   
          
    “I… I’m okay.”   
          
    “Don’t lie to me.” Loki whispers, cupping Tony’s cheek, a splash of warmth when he didn’t even notice how cold he’s already become.   
          
    “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He tries to offer a smile but it comes out mixed with a groan, closing his eyes tight again. Locking his jaw tight till he’s fighting for his breaths and trying not to scream as hands touch his side.  
          
    “Put pressure on it. Here.” Sally’s voice pings around his head, opening his eyes again to see her looking down at him with Loki, the bastard with the gun hovering in the background. The older woman passes the god a towel and for a moment the pressure against his abdomen is gone and he can breathe. When it returns it chokes a scream right out of him.    
         
     “I was a nurse, a long time ago. Keep him still; try your best to keep the bleeding down. Keep him warm if he gets cold.” Sally’s voice is soft and soothing, strong in the sight of so much blood. From the way his hands are shaking and his green eyes are so wide and scared, he’s sure that Loki’s gone bye bye for a moment.   
          
    Loki’s seen war and bloodshed on more realms than Tony can count with all his fingers and toes, but there’s no magical stone, no healing room a Bifrost away. He’s stuck here in hell with Tony bleeding out on the floor.   
         
     He’s not going to die though. Not after everything he’s done in his life. It’s not going to end here and now like this. He just… really needs a doctor.   
         
     Tony shakes his head slowly no, letting his death grip on Loki go, numb fingers seeking out his pocket. “Need… to call. Fuck… text… them.”   
          
    “Can you hold this?” Loki asks, his eyes sharp again like Tony’s voice and own resignation to the moment has pulled him together enough to think. Loki’s head snaps up for a moment as he passes over the towel and Tony follows his look across the restaurant to the kid with the gun. Blond head down and clasping the gun, Tony cant quite hear what he’s saying but his words are clipped tight as he speaks in angry tones to the officer.   
          
    It’s obvious that shooting someone wasn’t on the kid’s game plan for the night. Tony shares his sympathies; it wasn’t on his game plan either.   
          
    “That’s good, Mr. Stark.” Sally says softly as he lays still, watching the commotion across the room as Loki pulls his cell from his pockets.   
          
    Blinking slowly he arches an eyebrow at her.  “Seriously, Sally. You of all people get to call me Tony.” He offers her his most charming smile, or what before he had a hole in his gut was his most charming smile.   
          
    “Shh, Anthony.” Loki mutters, fingers gripping the cell in a white knuckled bloody grasp, jabbing at the screen.   
         
     For all their wonders and intelligence, technology is still a little hard to grasp for every demi-god Tony’s ever meet. Although Loki is still worlds better than Thor.   
          
    “You're gonna to break it.” He grunts, his hand flopping up to grab the phone from Loki, his own hands stained vivid crimson. “Give it.”   
          
    “You’ve been shot.”  
          
    “I can still text.” He groans, not having the energy to banter with the god. Loki seems to see this too and humors him. Giving the device over and settling on his knees to watch the man with the gun across the room strip the officer of his handcuffs and gun.   
          
    ‘Help. Now. Shot.’   
          
    He hits send and lets the phone drop down to the ground at his side, Loki’s hands holding tight to his instantly, the god closing his eyes.   
          
    There’s a warm tingle that travels from his fingers where Loki is feeding small amounts of magic into him down his arm.  
          
    Slow, small. It’s all Loki can do to Tony, the arc reactor navigating any use of magic larger than the most basic spell.   
          
    He’d once been thankful for that, when Loki had tried to rob Tony of his free will, but as time goes on, it’s really starting to suck.   
          
    The ringing phone at his side makes Tony jump, choking on a breath of air as his body protests the movement. Loki’s eyes snap open and he grabs for the phone, the over chipper ring tone loud in the quiet aftershock of Tony’s shooting.   
          
    Rogers' tone; some fifties little beat of do-wop.   
          
    “Don’t answer that phone!” The prick kid shouts, stumbling to his feet and waving the gun at the chef like he’s going to shoot that kid too if Loki so much as breathes wrong.   
          
    “It’s ringing.” The god says slowly, his silk voice low and threatening.   
          
    “Give me the fucking phone.”  
          
    Loki’s shoulders twitch and he’s an inch away from bringing the wrath of an incredibly angry god down onto the world, Tony reaching out with his hand and grasping his jacket tail tight.   
          
    “Give it. ‘s Rogers.” Tony says, blinking at how thick his tongue feels in his mouth, how slow his words are coming out.   
          
    Loki frowns but lets the kid with the gun take the still ringing phone from his hand. Hitting talk and holding it to his ear.   
          
    “Who the fuck is this? I’m going to shoot this pussy if you don’t talk!” He demands, pointing the gun at Loki’s head like Steve can see what’s going on. Tony only holds tighter to Loki’s jacket, trying his best to hold him down, even though he can’t seem to stop shaking.   
          
    “Uh… y… yeah… uhhuh…” The kid stammers, the gun dropping down slowly for a heartbeat. Already wide brown eyes going comical as he looks down at Tony on the floor. Tony almost wishes Rogers was here just so he can see the angry face on the Boy Scout as he chews this punk out. “Ah… avenger…”  
          
    So that cat’s out of the bag now.  
          
    The man nods, and lifts the gun back up again, his eyes going sharp as his mind turns over the new information. “And the black haired fag with him?”   
          
    Rogers must have let out a ‘huh? Who?’ because the kid smiles wide and wicked before holding out the phone to Loki and the gun drops down to Tony. He’s getting really tired of this kid… really tired of guns.   
         
     “Tell the nice Avengers your name. They don’t seem to know you.”   
          
    “Loki.” The god says slowly, tilting his chin up in defiance to both the prick and Rogers over the phone.   
          
    “Thanks for that, breaks up all kinds of awkward moments that we were going to have.” Tony groans pressing his head back down into the floor below him as the bastard with the gun turns away. He’s throwing all kinds of demands over the phone line, probably too stupid to realize he’s just going to get his ass handed to him by a bunch of very angry superheroes. Then again; so is Tony after all of this.   
          
    Slowly turning his head to the side, he gives Loki’s hand holding his a squeeze. “’sokay.”  
          
    “I don’t care what they do, Anthony. I want you well.”   
          
    “I’m touched.” Tony sighs, a shiver tickling down his spine and bringing the level of pain in his belly up another notch.  
          
    Sally is silent by his other side, her eyes watching Tony as he shivers again no matter how hard he tries to lock his muscles down. “You’re going into shock Tony. It’s the blood loss.” She says her voice sad for some reason. Tony feels like he’s been left out of some kind of sick inside joke with the punch line a grave.   
          
    Loki pulls off his jacket and does his best to drape it over Tony’s shoulders before he moves, nodding to Sally in an unspoken agreement a moment before the god lifts his head and shoulders just enough to cause an explosion of pain to go off in his insides. Gritting his teeth and panting hard as he’s settled into Loki’s lap.   
          
    Loki’s voice is in his ear in but his heart is beating too hard against the arc to hear anything but the drowning thrum, closing his eyes tight as he tries to breath through the pain.  
          
    By the time his vision clears and his hearing returns there’s a shower of red and blue lights coming through the windows like it’s forth of July. Painting the old lace curtains in patriotic colors.  
          
    “Oh… hey… help’s here?”   
          
    “You blacked out. Don’t do that again. Stay with me, Anthony.” Loki says, his fingers soothing over his forehead and though his hair.   
          
    “I did?” he blinks, lifting his head enough to look around him; Sally is over next to the chef and officer. The small group huddled away. The prick kid with the gun, guns now Tony guesses, is sitting in front of the doors like he’s Rambo. “Oh.”   
          
    “They’ve tried to speak to him.”   
          
    “And?” Tony asks, relaxing the best he can, his stomach swimming with pain as it knots in on itself, the bile and blood in the back of his throat nauseating.   
          
    “He is using us as a ransom. His demands are foolish.”  
          
    “Most are.” Tony says, clearing his throat only to choke. Clenching his hands tight till the pain subsides enough that he can think again.   
          
    “You need a doctor.” Loki says softly after a moment. His green eyes glowing like Methanol embers as the restaurants lights flicker before turning off. They’re closing the punk off from the world, forcing negotiations, Tony‘s cell ringing in the bastard's lap. The cop is speaking quietly to Sally and Charles, trying to sooth their fears.   
          
    Tony blinks a few times before looking back up at Loki, meeting his upside down frown. “You… cant, you can’t do anything.”  
          
    The god looks up and away, his jaw bunched as he clenches his teeth.   
          
    Oh.   
          
    “I am abiding by your wishes for now, Anthony, but I will not let things get past a level.” Closing his eyes in the darkness Loki shifts under him, stroking those warm long fingers through his hair again. “Do not sleep, Anthony. Please.”   
          
    Tony forces his eyes open at that last word. So desperate sounding. Scared.   
          
    “I’m not going anywhere.” Tony sighs softly, it’s starting to feel harder to breath and he’s shaking again but there’s no way in hell he’s going to say that to Loki. He’s pretty sure the god already knows.       
      
    “Come on. Talk to me. If I can’t sleep. Tell me what’s going on.” He says with a grunt as he shifts his shoulders a little. Loki’s hands soothing down his chest as he shivers harder, traveling warm and soothing over his collar bone and arc reactor.   
          
    “Your phone keeps ringing. I suspect the Avengers are having a heart attack over this.”   
          
    Tony actually lets out a wheezy chuckle at that, it rattling all the way though his lungs. “I wish I could have seen Steve’s face.”   
          
    Loki smiles and his spring green eyes flash down to him in the darkness. “I always enjoyed your humor.”   
          
    “Yeah. Grave humor. Who do you think Jarvis gets it from?”   
          
    “Fury will be most unhappy at our… relationship.”   
          
    Tony groans at the thought, lifting his hand up slowly to pinch his nose. His fingers feel like ice. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to eat me alive for this.”   
          
    “No one tastes the great Anthony Stark but me.” Loki says, his eyes flashing protective.  
          
    “You say the sweetest things.” Tony says his eyes falling closed again as something warm and wonderful settles over him. Loki’s magic tickling along his nerve endings in a pleasing way.   
       
    Opening his eyes again as thunder rolls in the distance, or maybe it’s something else. Something more like the quinjet, the dull roar raising heads and making the bastard with the guns rise to his feet in a panic. Tony’s phone in his hands ringing constantly now.   
          
    “He dead?” The prick asks striding over to Tony’s side and nudging against his limp hand with his dirty boot toe.   
          
    “Yes. And I’m going to haunt your ass.” Tony groans, sliding his offended hand up to his belly and trying not to fall into the sleep that’s dragging him down by meat hooks.   
          
    “Good answer the phone.” The kid says, dropping the device down onto Tony’s chest, it clicking against the arc in an unpleasant way before Loki grabs it. His green eyes toxic as he stares at the kid for a moment before taking the phone in hand, hitting talk and holding it to Tony’s ear like a dear.   
          
    “Wh’r the fuck are you?” Tony says, licking his lips to try and rid his mouth of the awful copper and bile taste, like he’s sucking on a penny from a sewer.   
          
    “Bruce here, tell me what’s going on. Shield is taking over for the local PD, there was a shot?”  
          
    Tony shivers, and grabs weakly for the phone, holding onto Loki’s hand as he strains to hear. “Yeah. Me.” He says thickly, his sarcasm coming across as more of a whimper.   
          
    “That’s the reports we’re getting. Loki shot you?”  
         
     “Loki? Fuck… no.” He groans, his head spinning.   
          
    The bastards! The fucking bastards think that Loki is the one who shot him. Struggling to sit up as he tries to grab the phone from the god’s warm fingers. Loki’s hand pressing down against his chest to keep him lying.  
           
    “Not Loki. Loki’s with me. I want you to take this prick that shot me and put an arrow through his heart. I want you to-” The last of his angry tirade is cut off as white hot pain explodes in his side, the punk kicking him hard.   
          
    Tony’s trying to breathe and stop from moaning and screaming as his head lights up like so many Las Vegas lights and his vision goes gray. Curling up tight around his over abused abdomen.  Loki growling out as apparently that level has been crossed, the god rising to his feet and towering over the kid who scrambles back. Magic crackling vivid neon green at his hands in the dark restaurant.   
          
    The angry god of chaos backs the kid against the glass doors; the bell above chiming with the force the guy hits it. “Don’t come any closer; I’ll blow the fucking place up!”  
          
    Tony blinks awake at that, the pain induced fog receding enough for him to clearly look across the red, white, and blue lit space. Loki’s standing just inches away from the kid, spine tense even as wicked energy crackles and smokes in his hands. Not moving. Blocking Tony’s view, damn it!   
          
    Something’s going on that Tony can’t see, clenching his jaw as he struggles to sit up, the restaurant spinning and tilting sickly as he moves.  
          
    “That’s right, you freak. I’ll do it! I’ll blow the whole damn place up!”   
          
    Tony glances to the phone where it’s resting across the floor, the screen a bright beacon in this fuck-mess. God, he hopes they can hear this over the line. Watching Loki take a measured step back, the magic dissipating like smoke from a dead candle. Fading back into the god.   
          
    “Get back!” The kid warns in a shrill voice and Loki moves slow, finally giving Tony a view of what the hell is going on.   
          
    Under his jacket the kid has more C4 strapped to his chest than Tony has in his basement… and that’s saying something. The set up isn’t complex by any standard, but most good bombs are easy to make. Tony should know. A few loose wires, a trigger, where the fuck is the trigger…   
          
    He also knows the chances of anyone walking out of this alive just dropped dramatically.   
          
    Settling back down into the sticky puddle of his own blood he breaths in short breaths though his nose and tries to think past the pain.   
          
    “How’d you get that much explosives? What is that? A vest? About six pounds of C4 Plastics? Where is the trigger?” He says, trying to speak loud, praying the team is getting the message through the still on phone. Loki seems to catch on, his eyes flashing in approval as he strides back to kneel by Tony’s side. Stroking his hand warm and comforting over Tony’s brow as the kid frowns hard at him.   
          
    “You need to shut your mouth.”   
          
    “Come on… monologue, you prick.”  
          
    The kid sneers at him, pulling a simple remote switch from the jacket pocket with the hand that’s not holding a gun. Flashing it to Tony like he’s showing off a toy. “I was saving this for something special, but I don’t think you can get more special than a glowing fag and Iron Man.”   
          
    “We just moved from opening act to the main show.” He says, closing his eyes and swallowing in a deep breath, letting it out as a ’fuck’. The hurt is getting worse and better at the same time, a numb throb that is sapping his energy making his heartbeat in his chest sluggish.  
          
    The dull roar outside finally dying down, it’s been ringing in his ears so long he’d began to think it was just him hearing it. Sally’s tears across the room soft in the sudden silence.   
          
    “Stay with me, Anthony.” Loki whispers in the quiet, lips brushing to Tony’s brow as he struggles not to fade away. “Do not make me go to Hel to stay with you. I do not wish to travel with you there for many years to come.”   
          
    “’m stan’ right here…” he lisps, fingers cold in Loki’s warm hand.  
          
    “STARK.” He blinks his eyes open weakly, not sure if he heard that right but the punk with the gun is looking to the door with wide eyes. Fury tends to do that to people.   
          
    “Oh. He sounds mad.” Tony says, coughing on a tickle at the back of his throat and deep in his lungs, regretting it immediately as pain breaks through his well enjoyed numb haze just hard enough to make him whimper.   
          
    “Be at ease.” Loki murmurs, switching to a tongue Tony’s only heard from him in a heat of passion. The Old Norse soft, the English lent to Loki’s voice giving the words a musical quality. It’s a prayer, it must be, by the way the words rise and fall.   
          
    Are gods supposed to pray like that? To other gods? He can’t help but wonder if its Odin Loki’s begging to, pleading for Tony’s soul, he’s sure.   
          
    Fury’s voice is barking over the loud speaker again but he can’t track the words, just the tone. The kid shouting back as warm wet drips land on his forehead and streak slowly down his temple. Loki’s prayers grow more frantic, the soft words coming to an abrupt end, so sudden Tony wonders if he was even hearing them. His choppy breathing the only sound in the restaurant for a second, the bell over the door ringing.   
          
    Tony turns his head slowly, his vision swimming, coming into focus just enough to watch the arrow slam into the punk's chest as he opens the door.  
          
    Blessed Clint.   
          
    Tony owes him a drink. A whole damn bar.   
          
    Watching the kid drop to his knees before toppling over to the side. He was dead before he even looked down to the arrow in his chest.  
          
    Closing his eyes to block on the swimming restaurant, the flashing lights. Tony just wishes that damn beeping would stop.   
         
     Beeping?   
         
    Fighting to stay conscious he struggles weakly in Loki’s tight hold, looking up into tear filled green eyes. His throat clicking uselessly as he fights to get the message across. The trigger must have been hit when the kid fell, killing them all with his death. Struggling hard he feels like he’s trapped in his body, unable to get a word across. No warning, no final good bye.   
          
    Frustration boiling over and anger fuels his voice, croaking out a single last word.   
          
    “Bomb.”   
          
    Loki’s eyes flash bright as he looks to the corpse and the Shield agents rushing into the door. The final beep echoing through the room before Tony finally looses his battle with consciousness.   
      
      
  
-  
  
  
    “Nnnngh…” Tony groans lowly, his body a numb net that’s holding his brain down, trapping him immobile and wrapped in a warm blanket of nothingness. Distant from the world but close enough to hear the murmur of voices across the detached space. Fury’s voice sounds like a crack of glacial ice, dangerous and cold.   
  
        He twitches, or tries to. Tasting cotton and blood and bitter chemicals.   
  
        The warm hand that squeezes to his grounds him, giving him something to hold on to till his eyes finally respond to his body’s commands and open. Bright light nearly blinding him.   
  
        It's heaven and hell. Steel walls and machines humming along merrily as they track his body’s signs of life. Fury looks like a cloud of black in a room of white, angry as he looms over Loki at Tony‘s side. Beautiful in his deity state. Chaos. Dark hair messed and clothes dirty. There’s no denying the life in his eyes though, stubborn and burning bright.   
  
        A smile pulling his thin lips tight as those bright green eyes turn to him. An emotion lurking just below the spring grass color, something Tony’s not awake or aware enough to peg.   
  
        “Anthony.” The god whispers softly, Fury looking down too, his frown still front and center.   
  
        Tony swallows a few times, his throat feeling licked with fire and doused with scotch. “We’re alive.” He says his voice is rough and a little pitched from the nasal cannula feeding oxygen to him.    
  
        Loki tilts his head in acknowledgement. “You are.” The god says, like that’s all that matters to him. It’s both a warming and a disconcerting feeling to be the sole item of such powerful attention.   
  
        “Yes. You both are.” Fury says, clasping his hands behind his back and surveying the odd state of affairs in front of him. “Everyone is.”   
  
        The director glances to Loki as the god makes a point of ignoring him, his touch tender as he scoops up Tony’s hand and traces his fingers over Tony’s knuckles.   
  
        “Apparently a magical force field of some kind protected not just yourself Stark, but every other living person in the restaurant from the explosion. The Shield field team that was entering the building as well.” Fury says, lifting his head and seeming to contemplate the ceiling as Tony blinks.   
  
        His mind is drug hazed and a little gray around the edges but he hears what Fury is saying.   
  
        Loki saved… everyone. When he could have easily just saved Tony and himself.   
  
        Squeezing Loki’s hand as tight as he can he looks to his lover. The god simply looking away, his dust and tear stained cheeks pink with a blush; a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar of good and evil.   
  
        “Bruce says you won’t be on your feet for another two weeks, Stark. I expect Loki will fill you in on what goes on during the meetings till then. He‘ll be attending from now on.” The director says, glancing down to them for a moment before turning on heel and striding out, the door whispering shut behind him.   
  
        “Look at me, please.” He sighs softly, licking his dry lips and wishing he could get a read on the god’s emotions. “Please.”   
  
        After a hesitant moment Loki raises his head and eyes to meet Tony’s.   
  
        “I love you, kay?” He says, swallowing down the rush of emotion.   
  
        “Forever, Anthony. I accept nothing but forever.”   
  
        “Forever.” He agrees, lips twisting into a tired smile.   
  
  
  
.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Published: 8-16-12 on FF.net. Re-posting here because I love Ao3. <3


End file.
